


Dumb Clowns in Glasses

by ahoy_m8tee



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Clowns go glasses shopping, Clowns in glasses, Gen, Humanstuck, I have no clue what to tag this I swear, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:58:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahoy_m8tee/pseuds/ahoy_m8tee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Gamzee's sight is actually shit but Tavros just assumes he keeps running into stuff because he's stoned off his ass. One accident too many and it's off to get glasses, much to Gamzee's dismay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dumb Clowns in Glasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Idefix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idefix/gifts).



> The literary equivalent of a doodle, as it is a snippet for tumblr user ldefix because she demands clowns. Warning: I wrote this between the hours of 1-3AM with plenty of distractions inbetween, and I haven't gone back to edit. Read at your own risk.

“MotherFUCK-!” 

A loud thump in the adjacent room easily tears you away from your attempts to scout out the latest shiny on your to-catch list. Laying aside your DS, you curiously wander over and peer around the corner into his room with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay in there, Gamzee?” The young man in question is scrubbing furiously at his forehead, which he seems to have hit- seeing as he is now sprawled dramatically on the floor. Not that it surprises you anymore. He’s so clumsy after all. After several moments of muttering, he raises his head just enough to look past his feet and catch a glimpse of you, which of course brings a dopey grin to his face as though he didn’t just nearly concuss himself. Then again, he may well have. Several times. It’s not like either of you would know.

“Just fine, my brother. The floor got it in its head to surprise me, that’s all. Thought it could move and the Gamzmeister wouldn’t notice. Well, no floor going to pull one over on me, you got that?” At this point, he’d gone back to lecturing the floor. You’ve never felt particularly jealous of your inanimate objects when he starts spending time conversing with them instead of you. It’s entertaining, and sweet in a way. He’s so imaginative. Plus, if you wait long enough, he’ll eventually notice you again and be just as happy to see you as if you’d just walked in. Oh- whoops you’re spacing again.

“Except it kind of did succeed in… surprising you, did you say?” Kneeling down, you find one of your shirts flung against the wall. It must have slipped out from under him when he stepped on it. It’s black, so it could blend in with your wood floor if it was dark, you suppose. Except, it’s the middle of the day. You shake your head with a laugh and hold up the clothing to him. “Gamzee, you slipped on my shirt. The floor doesn’t have it out for you.”

“You sure, Tavbro? There wasn’t no shirt there when I up and tripped.” He stretched, ever so casual and laid back as ever. Perhaps he’d forgotten he hadn’t meant to be on the floor in the first place. He didn’t seem to be wanting to get up any time soon. “I didn’t see nothin there.” He squints at your hand in contemplative silence and tips his head to the side. “Sides, ain’t that my shirt? Sorry I’m leavin my shit around. Keep meanin to fluff and fold, but you know I just keep gettin distracted and all that jazz.” As if on cue, he’s suddenly slumped a bit at the shoulders again and he’s doing that adorable thing where he’s slightly wall-eyed as he stares off into ‘the void’, and his nostrils flare and his- Wait… this is most obviously your Peter Pan shirt you got at Disney World two years ago. It’s printed in big letters with the iconic hat and everything. Granted, you’re not exactly holding it out flat, but it’s still pretty obvious.

“No… this is mine.” You look down at it, now very confused. “I wear it all the time- you don’t own any like it that I know of.” He just shrugs.

“Sorry, bro. Guess I wasn’t lookin.” He meets your frown with an innocent smile. On a spur of the moment, you hold up the shirt and stretch it so that there can be no mistake this time.

“Gamzee, what does this say?” A strange look crosses his face and he tries to avoid the question. Yup. There’s the moneymaker. If his ears turn red, he’s lying or hiding something. Not that he does it often, but when he does, it’s about really obvious stuff. You’ve got him down to a science now. Or, as close to a science as this bizarre kid can be. Maybe it’s more of a theory- a really solid theory that every agrees on and get results for but can’t technically pin down, like wormholes or something. You’re getting off track again. “Zing!” You point at him with a flourish and the word makes him freeze like a dog caught shredding the newspaper. It’s the code between the two of you when you’ve caught him doing something he’s not supposed to do, like doubling up on his pain meds, or trying to pass off two boxes of pizza bites as dinner. He’s nearly convinced you’re psychic at this point. “Fess up. Can you read what my shirt says?” He frowns at it again, channelling every bit of willpower into deciphering the strange encryption, but obviously to no avail. He slumps over his knees in defeat. Man, this kid is flexible.

“No.” He mutters into his kneecaps with his arms draped piteously by his sides. “It’s just a blob-o-fuzz. My eyes are literal shit.” You stare at him, openmouthed.

“Well… that explains a lot. When were you planning on telling me that you wear glasses? Or do you just wear contacts and forgot to put them in?” His head snaps up to look at you with the most disgust you’ve ever seen on one face in your entire life.

“Tavbro, I have done many a gross thing.” He began, sounding very serious about this very true statement. “But, I will NOT be stickin no fingers in my eyes. That shit’s disgusting.” He shuddered at the apparently revolting concept, though quickly recovered and turned his guilty eyes back to yours. His big, beautiful- No. You’ve been through this train of thought already. “I’m just all embarrassed by it. I look like a fuckin idiot in them.” The pout is strong with this one. Still, your hands find their way to your hips.

“Put some real pants on, Gamzee. I’m taking you to get glasses.” His pitiful act drops and turns to what looks to be genuine anxiety over the subject.

“No- No I don’t want to!” He lunges forward to land on your lap and stares up at you. Maybe he thinks that if he looks like he’s in physical pain that you’ll just let it slide. “Tav, me an glasses just don’t get along, alright? I’m sorry I fell.” What an odd thing to apologize for.

“You can’t even read the big letters on my shirt. You’ve got to be legally blind not to be able to do that. You expect me to just let you fumble around because you think being able to see again would make you look funny?”

“Yes.” He cuts in without missing a beat. Though, your glare obviously silences the option and he groans, knowing he’s been beaten.

“Why are you so against glasses anyway? I’ve never even seen you in them before. Maybe you look better in them now.” He shakes his head, and when he responds you think it’s to the floor again, but it’s in fact to you. 

“When I was a squirt, my old man found out I couldn’t see any good, but he was too cheap to get me anything worth his time, so he just found the worst possible ones he came across first. Got teased something awful for them and they didn’t even work right.” He sighed. “Apparently they was for someone with a different kind of blind than I was, but Da figures they’re glasses so I shoulda been seeing just fine.” You run your fingers through his hair and find at least two knots that you make a mental note to go back and get out later.

“Well just because one pair didn’t work on you doesn’t mean that every one is just as bad.” You try. He doesn’t seem to buy it, but he doesn’t protest either. He just lies there in a dejected pile of sadness, like you had just sentenced him to a fate worse than death. “Come on. I meant the pants thing.” The final nail has been driven into his metaphorical grave and he lets out a tortured little whine. Who would have thought pants were such a distressing development?

\- - - - - - - - - - - - 

As it turned out, one needs to schedule these types of things in advance. However, since you had him at the closest optometry center (the one in your local Walmart), he now quietly sulks around behind you as you pick up various frames from around the store and stick them on his face. Maybe it’s the sour frown that they’re not working with, or maybe he just has ‘that face’ that you hear people talk about so much, but it seems he was right about not looking good with glasses. There were some that were okay, but none that really stood out. The few that actually looked somewhat decent on him were immediately shot down by the fact that he didn’t like how they felt. Row by row, the two of you inch across the store, and every pair than you frown over and put back just seems to make his personal raincloud even darker.

Just as you are about to give up and suggest ice cream, then perhaps a different store with a wider selection, the final pair you pick up and slip onto his nose clicks. They're black with purple metal arms- you know for a fact that Gamzee is a sucker for anything purple- and they sit just so on his cheekbones, with frames just thick enough to draw attention to his eyes without hiding his thick lashes. He seems to have picked up on your silent approval, because he straightens and looks around for a mirror curiously. He won’t really be able to see them yet, but maybe Tavbro’s gone and done something else that he’s now staring at instead.

“They’re perfect.” You declare with a sense of finality. “Any complaints about those?” He thinks for a moment before shaking his head and running his hands over them. You’ve finally put your finger on it. Every other pair has either competed with his own plentiful angles, or they were too stuffy and businesslike. These frames are soft, light, and-

“Sir?” The desk attended calls out in confusion. “Those are from our Women’s collection.” Oh. You catch Gamzee shooting you a nervous look.

“We’ll take them.” You inform the woman kindly. Gamzee simply grins.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - 

A few weeks later and word arrives in your voicemail that your order is ready for pick up, and this riles your companion up all over again. The whole ordeal of getting his eyes checked had put him in a foul mood and it took five whole boxes of pizza bites, a pillow fort, and at least three makeout sessions to pick his spirits up again. This was one of the few times you’d ever seen him be upset about something for more than fifteen consecutive minutes. Still, he at least wasn’t grumpy anymore, and was now instead simply fidgeting nervously in the passenger seat. He hadn’t wanted to come, as per usual, but eventually you had convinced him with the promise of playing Mario Kart with him that evening; though, it still took a few more encouraging kisses to lure him out of the car once you were parked again. 

The second you have the glasses in hand, his face screws up as though you were going to prod him between the eyes with a hot poker. Then, as soon as you slip them over his ears and let his curls fall back into place, he slowly opens one eye and stares at the chart being held in front of him with a sound hitching in his throat. 

“Damn…” He breathed, lifting the glasses up and putting them back again. “I didn’t know. Those lines so sharp they gonna cut me if I touch ‘em.” Disbelieving, he turns and grabs the hand mirror to start poking and pulling on his face, as though skin hadn’t actually existed before this point. You can’t help but laugh as you turn to settle out payment. It wasn’t until he speaks again that you remember why he’d been nervous in the first place. “I look motherfuckin sexy.” He informs the mirror, much to the scandal of the assistant and the delight of the optometrist. He was turning his head side to side with a cocky little smile on his face as he starts batting his eyelashes at his reflection. You could swear that he’d start shooting off pickup lines to this other Gamzee any moment. Okay, so you’ve never been jealous of inanimate objects until now.

Only after you’d finished the last of the paperwork did a tiny, reverent gasp catch your attention. Glancing over your shoulder to see what part of himself he’d re-experienced now, you snort when the raging blush covering his face paired with the direction of his shocked expression betray the fact that he’d just discovered your ass. These were your favorite jeans for a reason, though you’d never tell anyone else this fact. Ever so slowly, Gamzee’s eyes slide over every single detail on your person that he can take in, eventually landing on your face where he freezes.

“Holy fuck, and I thought I looked amazing.” Like the true dork he is, he has now risen from his chair and has closed the space between you to plant his chin on your chest. It seems no matter how hard he tries, he cannot stop staring at you, which you absolutely know is turning your face pink.

“Did I pick well?” You ask, already guessing at the answer when he reaches up to plant a firm kiss on your lips- exactly where he means to for once.


End file.
